Pardon the one word post that was here for a second. I wanted to get a word recorded before the clock left 11:59pm on Thursday and ventured into Friday.

I’m just home from an evening out with Annie, after a dinner, lunch and morning movie with her. I could get used to this not working thing.

The bar we went us known for not having a menu and for its tiny size, despite being named Big. Your bartender mixes a custom drink for you, based on your requested spirit, flavor preference or mood. I’m not the most educated in the cocktail world, but I was game. My first was an evolved gin fizz, in a non-sweet direction. I liked it, even though there was some pear, grapefruit and chartreuse in there. The egg white and bitters were funky.

The second was not as successful and I blame myself. I was not specific enough other than “not sweet.” Unlike a sushi bar, omakase was not my friend tonight. Bartender’s choice got me a whiskey something with habanero, vermouth and who knows what else.

My faith in other people leading me to what I want is unfounded. Especially when I don’t offer a lot. There’s a lesson somewhere in here about asserting myself or having a more clear vision for my desires, but it’s too late to go into that now. I’ll leave it at being honest with myself if I really want fennel, scotch or salt.

I’ll be back for more. And I’ll try harder next time.

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